Pitch Black did not believe in fate, but he supposed if there were indeed such a thing, he would consider it a cruel and unrelenting force.
Unable to walk in the light of day, it was rare to find a decent meal nowadays. Young children were forbidden to wander the vacant streets of night unaccompanied anymore, and rebellious lovers no longer had to meet in the shadows of empty parks and grassy hills to indulge in their physical desires. No, instead he was often forced to travel down the damp alleyways of known drug dealers and crowded bars in a desperate search for an easy target to hunt. The stench of ethanol and hydrochloric salt that coursed through the veins of the human vermin he was forced to feast upon was almost enough to make him gag—but a being as ancient and proud as he would never give in to such a dismal reflex.
On the best and worst of days, he much preferred the smaller towns of the coastal states, rich in thick forests and deep caves cut from jagged sea cliffs. While scarce in a vast blood supply, these locations offered him the small comfort of idyllic resting places for a vampire—dark, secluded, and filled with shadows for him to bend to his will. The caves he often sought for refuge were usually uninhabited due to their dangerous position among the rocks, and he was content in his solitude as the sun rose mockingly in the sky day after day. The moon was just as taunting in its splendor, though its precious light did not burn his grey flesh and force him into hiding. Still, he chose to ignore the pale orb among the darkened clouds as he stepped out along the slick, rocky shores that surrounded his most recent dwelling.
The night would most likely end in disappointment and an empty stomach. He had gone hungry many times before, of course, and he would undoubtedly go hungry again. However, he had nothing better to do, and a little exercise had yet to bring about his demise.
The primordial vampire allowed the shadows to dance in weaving tendrils around the hem of his black trenchcoat as it drifted across the stones behind him. He made sure to advance along the shoreline more carefully than usual, eyeing the still-glistening boulders that had fallen victim to the roaring storm earlier that morning. He had actually been quite enthralled with the height and ferocity of the ocean waves as the winds howled and wrestled in a childish tantrum not uncommon this far north. While the storm had passed many hours prior, he had been around long enough to know which violent outbursts left lasting impressions upon their elemental brethren that could result in a most unbecoming slip and tumble. So, he moved with caution, keeping his gaze fixed upon the ground as he turned away from the rocks and—oh!
Oh!
Just as Pitch set his intentions on the town beyond the beach, a gentle breeze carried the most delectable scent of untainted blood to his nose. He stood completely frozen as the smell sent delighted shivers down his spine, his parched throat suddenly tight and painful. Head tilted back and eyes fluttering shut, the tall vampire inhaled and sent his shadows out to find the source.
Such a mouth-watering delight—alive and vibrant, aged beyond that of any feeble human essence, and simply dripping with panic and helplessness! He could already taste a hint of magic hidden beneath a strong tang of salt and calcium carbonate, mixed with the dry but sweet aftertaste of juniper berries. What fine creature of legend had fallen so perfectly into his clutches after years of human scraps, he wondered?
The shadows returned to him just as the smell began to fade in its intensity, directing him to a tall cluster of black stones further down the bank and surrounded on all sides by gently rolling sea foam. His boots crunched and slipped against the dull gravel in his haste to reach the wide but shallow crevice in the earth, though he still had enough self-control to keep his guard up in the event of a defensive attack from his unsuspecting prey. Using the shadows to push him up the slick surface of the high rocks, he knelt into a deep crouch and bared two rows of fangs in a threatening hiss.
The sight that met his eyes stole all noise from his throat in an instant.
If the moon and the ocean had a passionate love affair, the beautiful creature huddled fearfully against one of the many rocks would have most certainly been their child. The boy appeared young and lean, with skin as pale and pure as the stars floating freely in the night sky above them. White tresses dampened by the crisp, unforgiving waters of the ocean deep fell in disarray as though caressed by the playful winter air. Wide eyes the color of crackling ice over darkened tide pools stared up at him, full of a fear masked by the wild fury of an animal cornered and having nothing left to lose.
The water was shallow enough that he could clearly see the shape of a long tail twitching nervously against the jagged rocks poking out of the sandy ground, flattened scales arranged in shades of blue that darkened the closer they came to the large caudal fin. This and the short pelvic spines that flowed from the boy's hips were a pure white that matched his short mop of hair, flowing and translucent but by no means inefficient. Whenever his tail slipped out of the gentle current of the ocean waves around him, the silver light of the full moon would reflect off of the overlapping scales and make them sparkle like a thousand diamonds.
Pitch rose from his crouch in slow movements, keeping his expression carefully blank and meeting the gaze of the grimacing merman. The storm had clearly taken the poor creature hostage, flinging him too close to the shore and into a small, shallow prison of stones with no direct connection to the ocean beyond. Small cuts that the vampire had not immediately taken notice of marred the boy's hands and arms, small droplets of drying blood staining the pale surface an unflattering red.
Just as he thought. It would be fitting for such a stunning being to be the source of the blood his tongue now itched to taste.
"I have to say, this is quite the surprise." Pitch stated, flashing his prey a small smirk. "It's not often I run into sea folk such as yourself. Have you gotten yourself in a little bind?"
"Stay away!" A voice much deeper than he anticipated, but no less enchanting, echoed in the calm winds of the night. The merman flicked his tail out of the water in a wide arc, sending tiny bursts of sea foam flying in Pitch's direction. The ancient shadow couldn't help but chuckle. Mermen were wild and unpredictable things, often causing unintended chaos by becoming too curious about the world above the waves.
"Or what? You'll smack me in the face with your pretty fins?" He clasped his hands behind his back, straightening his posture in an effort to seem even more composed—and, thus, more intimidating.
"W-what are you?" The boy demanded. "You're not human."
"Oh, no, no, not at all!" Pitch fought down a sneer at the very thought of himself in a weak, mortal shell. "I am what those fools call a vampire, though I prefer the title Shadow-Bender, if I am to be honest."
"So…so do you drink blood and stuff?" The merman's eyes flicked over the dark folds of Pitch's open trenchcoat, no doubt taking special note of the thin shadows that moved of their own accord. Whether the water dweller was attempting to stall for time or simply sating a curiosity that came with his species, Pitch found himself a tad bit put off by the phrasing of such a defining inquiry. What did not bend under any circumstance, however, was the burning thirst for the luscious essence that flowed in a panicked rush beneath the merman's pale neck.
"Indeed, I do." He promised. Pitch's smirk spread in delight when his prey curled up into a tight ball of terror, the glistening blue scales shielding his bare chest from the predator's line of sight. "And you, my dear boy, smell absolutely divine."
No, Pitch Black did not believe in fate.
But, if it did exist, it could certainly be kind and generous when it wanted to be.